


Where are you going?

by Groot_the_tree



Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt Sherlock Holmes, Hurt/Comfort, Jim Moriarty is a Little Shit, Kidnapping, M/M, Nightmares, Pain, Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty Fluff, Sherlock Holmes/Jim Moriarty Fluff, Torture, Whumptober 2020, Whumptober Day 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Groot_the_tree/pseuds/Groot_the_tree
Summary: Whumptober day 5. Prompt:No 5. WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING? On the Run | Failed Escape | Rescue-"He was running, constantly looking back and forward to make sure he wasn’t being followed. To put it lightly he was terrified. It had been days of him being left down in the basement, in a cell, being beaten and tortured. To make it worse, he didn’t know what he did."
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Series: Whumptober 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948387
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Where are you going?

He was running, constantly looking back and forward to make sure he wasn’t being followed. To put it lightly he was terrified. It had been days of him being left down in the basement, in a cell, being beaten and tortured. To make it worse, he didn’t know what he did. 

His heart is beating so hard he’s worried it’s going to come out of his chest or that the sound of it will alert others to his location. Then again, if that doesn’t then the heavy breathing will. 

Each step is hell, he’s certain that his leg is sprained at least but most likely broken along with his ribs that burn like fire at every breath he takes but he knows he can’t stop.

Stopping would mean being caught and being caught would mean death. 

Looking behind him again, he doesn’t notice the rope stretched just above the ground. His foot gets tangled in it and he falls onto his face, the sound echoing in the long, dark, empty hall. 

He sits up carefully, wincing as his leg is moved. If it wasn’t broken before it certainly is now. 

With a quick look around he sees what tripped him and that there is no one behind him. He pushed himself back to his feet and takes off again, feeling tears in his eyes as his feet land on the floor. 

His head is turned back, making sure no one is behind him and doesn’t notice as he reaches the end of the hall and is stopped by a hand to his chest. A hand so cold he can feel the coldness seeping through his shirt to his skin, chilling straight to his heart. 

Slowly, he turns to look at who it is. 

Eyes that he is sure are black stare back at him. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” The man asks and immediately he knows who it is. Of all the people he could have run into its Moriarty himself. 

“I was just leaving,” Sherlock replies, looking down at him, not going to just give up. He’s made it this far and that was too much progress to lose. 

“No, you’re not,” Moriarty responds, simply. “You don’t leave until I say you leave. You have two choices here. You can either go back to the cell or you can continue trying to leave and get killed. I saw you running. I have my best sniper placed at the exit you’re going for. By the time you get back to trying to leave I will have them at the others as well. So, what’s it going to be, Sherlock?” 

Sherlock looks at him a moment before turning and starting to run again. He wasn’t going to give up. He would rather be killed than continue being tortured in that cell. 

Moriarty chuckles, watching him, not at all surprised at his choice. 

He starts slowly walking after him. It wasn’t long before a quiet sound was heard. A rifle with a silencer only heard because of the closed-in room where it echos off the walls. 

Then there was a scream and Moriarty chuckles again. 

“You said he was at the exit,” Sherlock says from the floor, looking up at Moriarty, holding his side where he had been shot. 

With his hands shoved in his pocket, he gives a shrug, looking amused, “Okay, I lied.” 

“I’m not dead so it wasn’t Moran.” Sherlock says, quietly, “Then who is your best man that this is supposed to be?” He asks, looking up at him. 

“Oh, no, that was me,” Moran says, moving down from where he had been positioned. 

“Then I hate to tell you, you missed,” Sherlock says, annoyance in his strained voice at having been shot. 

“No, I didn’t actually. I wasn’t shooting to kill. Jim wanted to be the one to do that, see the light leave your eyes. I’m just here to watch.” Morans says, moving down to where he was sitting and smiling, looking as though he was excited about a front-row seat and all that was left was the popcorn. 

Sherlock looks at them both. At first, the thought of getting up and running again enters his mind but they were both too close and with one on each side, there was no way he could get away. 

Moriarty steps closer, leaning in, his thumb digging into the bullet hole in Sherlock’s side, chuckling sadistically as the other bites back a scream but one twist of his thumb and the scream leaves him. 

The sound of Moran chuckling joins in as he stands up and his steel-toed books make a connection with his ribs making the screaming louder. 

Suddenly it all stops.

-

Sherlock sits up, breathing heavily and looking around. The first thing he notices is the faces, one on each side, and knows immediately its Moriarty and Moran. He starts trying to get away from them but the pain is too much. 

Then it hits him. What he was sitting on, it’s no longer the cold, hard, concrete it was before. It’s softer, warmer. 

Then he looks at their faces and can see the noticeable concern they’re both wearing. 

“Sherlock.” Jim whispers, his hand reaching to his face, touching it lightly and wiping a tear the man himself wasn’t even aware of. 

A sound close to a whimper escapes him at the touch as he flinches away but that only brings him closer to Moran who wraps an arm around his back.

He scrambles away from the both, leaving them confused as Sherlock tries to regain his breath. 

“What’s going on, Holmes?” Sebastian asks, watching him, trying to make sure his voice is soft enough. 

“You know you’re safe here with us,” Jim says, looking like he wants to reach out for him but doesn’t. 

“You… You were both… You tried to kill me.” He chokes out, feeling pathetic and weak.

Jim sighs softly, “I thought we were past that. We talked it out, Sherly. You said it was okay, that it was something you enjoyed as well.” 

“I…you…but you just…it was just now…before…” 

“No, Holmes, it was a couple of years ago. We haven’t done anything since then.”

“You shot me!” 

“Okay, that never happened. Threatened to, maybe, had my sights on you, certainly, but I never shot you.” 

“I…” Sherlock starts before realizing that the pain he had been in earlier was gone and the thing he was sitting on was a bed.

“It was a dream, Sherly.” Jim says, pausing for a moment, considering his words, “Do you want something? A drink? I can make tea. Or if you’d rather us leave for the night we can do that.” 

Sherlock looks between them for a moment, starting to feel embarrassed by his outburst. “Maybe some tea?” He asks, softly, wanting the warmth and comfort that comes with it. 

Jim nods and stands up, giving him a smile as he leaves.

“Come here, curly,” Sebastian says, his arms opening. 

Sherlock hesitates for a moment, feeling unsure about this, as though every memory of this relationship has left him but slowly he moves closer, into his arms. It was strangely comfortable. 

They sit in silence until Jim returns with the tea, a more proper smile on his face, seeing the other two sitting together. 

“There’s a nice sight.” He says, passing Sherlock and Sebastian their tea, both fixed the way he knows they like. He settles himself on Sherlock’s other side, each of them content to just be while comforting the man in the middle.

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't done a nightmare fic in a while.   
> Kudos and comments are nice.


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